Charlotte.com

The NASCAR Media Tour rolled to Windshear, Inc., across a field from the airport in Concord, Tuesday morning.

Windshear is the only commercially available full-scale, single-belt, rolling road wind tunnel in the world. That's what the press release says, and I believe it.

Truth is, I couldn't make sense of it. Several employees, all of them helpful, attempted to explain it. One, the second guy, had windblown hair, which gave him more credibility than the other guys I talked to.

A car, a blue and white Chevrolet Car of Tomorrow, was attached to what looked like a giant treadmill. A pole was attached to the front and back tire on the left side and to the front tire on the right side.

The treadmill can go up to 180 mph, and needs only 60 seconds to get there. But for us the car was moving only five meters a second, which I'm told is 20 mph.

I asked if I could get on the treadmill with the car. I think I can run 21 mph. Man, would I have talked trash to that car if I had? COT, Car of Tomorrow, meet ROY, the Runner of Yesterday, ROY. What you got? Thought so. I'll wait for you.

Nobody would let me race the Chevrolet, however. I didn't mind since I would prefer to race a Toyota.

The treadmill is only one millimeter thick. You are allowed to walk on it or run on it only in bare feet because shoes will rip the thing.

The coolest part of the facility is a giant fan, which blows air at the car. The fan is 22 feet in diameter and has carbon fiber blades. I am a proponent of carbon fiber blades.

When you walk inside the tunnel, there's what looks like an upside down bowling pin, white and red, jammed into the carbon fiber blades. The bowling pin is where the motor is and enables the fan to generate 5,000 horsepower.

The fan was great, as was the bowling pin and treadmill. Who has been to one of these things before? It was all so unpredictable.

More predictable, however, was what a guy with thick hair yelled to the bald guy as we were leaving.

There are some tremendous characters in racing, funny, smart, gutsy men and women who have something to say and are willing to say it. They’re all at least 60. And at some point they will walk away.

There’s a character void that NASCAR will attempt to fill. Chairman Brian France said during the NASCAR Sprint Media Tour on Monday that drivers will not be penalized as extensively as they have been for bad behavior and bad words.

France said there was a problem with drivers, and the sport had to clean it up. So NASCAR got tough. The strategy worked. Drivers collectively turned nice. As a result, NASCAR can loosen the reins. This will put drivers in a position to let their personalities shine through, provided those personalities exist.

I don’t get excited looking at stock cars. I’ve seen enough of them. They no longer are exotic to me. But I love to envision myself in an open-wheel car. The opening is so narrow I have to wonder how A.J. Foyt ever squeezed in. What I would give to drive the car one time.

I’d take it on Interstate 77 or I-485 when the good drivers were out, the drivers who leave the left lane open for faster traffic. I’d be faster traffic.

A reporter asked Monday if fans would get bored with racing if their favorite, Dale Earnhardt Jr., suddenly were to win all the time.

In my neighborhood, and in the neighborhoods I drove through Thursday morning, it was the kids who embraced the snow. They were the ones squealing and frolicking and improvising. Adults merely trudged through on the way to work.

As somebody who spent most of his 29 years in Minnesota, I can tell you that snow has to be embraced. You can't run from it. I mean, you can do what I did and take a pay cut and move 1,200 miles south. But, the cost of living was cheaper in Charlotte then. And I had paid my snow dues.

That was the opportunity you had Thursday morning. Let's say you decided to skip work. A good thing to do is ice fish. Here's how you ice fish. You find somebody that owns an ice house. In the house, there is heat, a hole through the ice and lots of beer.

I didn't make it to Lake Wylie or Lake Norman Thursday, but you at least have to try.

Another good thing to do in the winter is play hockey. If you can't skate, play boot hockey. I used to play in a boot hockey league. Instead of a puck you'd use a ball. You'd fly down the ice and then you're run into somebody built like a freezer and down you'd go. Then you'd get up, pledge eternal revenge and go flying after the ball again.

Snowball fights are always good. You see Brett Favre fire snowballs last Saturday at Lambeau Field? Can you imagine having a real snowball fight with him? If it were me, I'd go deep, real deep, before I even thought about firing a snowball at him.

Snowmobiling is a blast. It's easy to get lost because when you get away from civilization, all you see is snow and trees and hills. That's the beauty of it. You just go.

If you're a runner, running in the snow is entertaining. You put on layers of clothes and you go. There was a lake in Minneapolis near my house, and out on the ice I'd see the fire the fishermen used to stay warm, and when snow was falling and fire was burning the scene was absolutely surreal.

Sliding is probably the easiest of the winter pursuits. You could use a sled, a saucer or a piece of cardboard. You could tie a rope between your sled and your buddy's. And as you did you could experience such mathematical and scientific pursuits as physics and gravity.

I'll always remember going down the steep hill at Upper Lake Harriet Park in Minneapolis. At the bottom was a tennis court. As my buddy Al and I approached, I went to the left and he went to the right. It was a long rope. We sailed toward the pole to which the net is attached, me on one side and Al on the other. I thought, I wonder what will happen?

What happened is the rope stretched, the sleds stopped moving and we didn't. We were briefly like Superman, flying through the air. It was great.

You'd go home and walk in the house with your face red and snow and slush attached to your coat, pants and hair. Your reward was hot chocolate. The reason it tasted so good was that you had to earn it.

With 12 minutes, 50 seconds to play, North Carolina guard-forward Marcus Ginyard fell to the court, injured. Roy Williams ran out to check on him, but Ginyard didn't move. Finally he stood and fans gave him an ovation. Ginyard even smiled as he walked to the bench.

Last month when North Carolina guard Bobby Frasor was hurt he, too, walked off the court. The walk was impressive in that he had torn his ACL.

The Tar Heels are trying to get Frasor another season, but he played three too many games. North Carolina thinks highly enough of Frasor that they're fighting for an extra season anyway.

And Ginyard? While the Tar Heel players huddled during a timeout, Ginyard worked on the end of the bench with trainer Marc Davis, hopping repeatedly on his left leg. He looked silly, but he was fine.

No offense, but unless you're a hard-core Tar Heels fan, why are you inside reading blogs? This game is more one-sided than most New England games. I'm writing blogs because I'm a trained professional and because, well, I have to. But if I were you, I'd be outside. You're welcome.

You would have thought the numbers on N.C. State's end of the scoreboard were broken.

N.C. State had 11 points. A minute later the Wolfpack had 11 points. A minute after that the Wolfpack had 11 points.

You could leave your seat at the Dean Dome, walk to a concession stand, grab something to eat and drink, and the Wolfpack would have 11. You could leave the Dean Dome, drive to Franklin Street, order something to eat and drink, and the Wolfpack still would have 11. And you didn't have to order takeout. You could sit down, eat slowly, drive back, park, walk five minutes to the gym and the Wolfpack still would have 11.

N.C. State missed 16 straight field goal attempts. While N.C. State wasn't scoring, the Tar Heels were putting up 25 straight. This wasn't basketball. This was carnage.

The player that drew some ooohs from the crowd with a slick crossover dribble, the player who made the sweet pass inside was North Carolina guard Quentin Thomas. The Tar Heels are undefeated in games in which Thomas, a 6-3 senior, plays well. They are 1-0.

Sports fans like to dress the way their icons do. For kids and college students at the Dean E. Smith Center, that means dressing like the players. They wear jerseys and T-shirts. For adults that means dressing like head coach Roy Williams. That means sweater vests.

The fans don't look good in them either.

The battle between the big men, N.C. State's J.J. Hickson and North Carolina's Tyler Hansbrough, was compelling. Hickson, a freshman, did not back down from the North Carolina junior. They banged, pushed and grabbed offensive rebounds. The duel was compelling. Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

I think I tried not to watch the remake of "American Gladiator" because I knew I'd be hooked. I watched anyway. I'm hooked.

A remake of the show that ran from 1989-96, it would be better if all the Gladiators and all the contestants were women. But that's just me.

It's like the old show in that two athletic women compete against each other and two athletic men compete against each other. The Gladiators are always pushing them or crashing into them or knocking things into them or shooting things at them or throwing them into the water.

A tough new Gladiator is Hellga. Yes she spells it with two l's. I'll tell you, no guy ever made her fetch him a beer if she didn't want to. She reminds me a little of former Carolina Panther offensive lineman Matt Elliott.

My new favorite Gladiator is Venom, which probably is not her real name. (Venom is my ex-wife's name). She is mean and athletic, but there is something sweet about her. She probably likes long walks in the rain and sad movies and puppies. So what if the puppies are pit bulls? She wears a silver outfit and cool black boots, and she has blonde hair and I don't think she dyes it because she doesn't seem like that kind of person.

The ratings are sensational. And I promise that if they get rid of the guys they'll be even better.

When Ric Flair retires, it will be a loss not only for professional wrestling but for Charlotte. No matter what you think of the sport, or entertainment, Flair has been a great representative for our town.

I stood next to Richard Petty on the porch of his Level Cross home one sweltering July. 4 watching him sign autographs until his hand went numb. Petty is as gracious as any athlete I have encountered, and a great advertisement for all that is right about racing.

The Nature Boy is to wrestling what the King is to racing. I’ve seen Flair sign until his hand also is about to wear out. I spent part of Thursday with Flair at Dean & Deluca, and fans regularly approached his table as if seeking an audience. He rose to greet each and gave each a smile and his time.

And not all the fans were women. Most were, though.

Flair’s stature is such that he can’t be a bad guy anymore. And Flair loves being a bad guy.

"It just got to the point that I can’t make them mad at me no matter how hard I try," he says.

That’s because (a) fans love veterans and (b) Flair is so nice to them out of the ring that they can’t accept him as an instrument of evil.